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by twigcollins
Summary: Sol and Ky, early on in the war.  Rated for Sol's filthy mouth, as usual.


"If you fall behind, I'm gonna have to carry you. Ass-up."

Ky glared at the back of Sol's head, and Lord, but shocking him off the rather steep slope would be incredibly satisfying.

He sighed, and shut his eyes, and recited half a prayer just to give himself something - anything - else to think about than the wonderful thud Sol would make landing face first in the dirt.

The landscape here wasn't much to look at, the trees around them little more than sticks holding clumps of snow, scattered here and there amidst the craggy rocks slick with frozen mud. The same landscape he'd been looking at for heaven only knew how long. Ky tried not to think about how the sun was still little more than a thin, weak disc in the sky, with gray mornings and grayer afternoons and dusk falling somewhere around lunchtime.

"Too cold for you, kid?" Sol called again over his shoulder, absolutely reveling in the advantages of his affinity, fire users always happy to keep trudging along well after the rest of the army had frozen solid.

"I'm fine."

Ky wasn't entirely sure why he'd decided to come along, when he'd seen Sol amble by, going about his routine walk. Ostensibly, they were doing a quick perimeter sweep, although multiple reports had already come back clean, and there was no particular need. Ky hadn't intended to annoy the other man, never did, although it didn't seem to change anything. Any hope of having a conversation, polite or otherwise, seemed as doomed to failure as ever.

He still appreciated the chance to breathe, this as close as he would get to solitude anytime soon, especially as Sol - directly quoted - "couldn't give a flying fuck for all that politeness shit. Save it for the cheap seats, Kiske." So he could actually take a moment to relax, tact and politeness blatantly unnecessary in such company.

It was still a little disheartening, that the other man loathed him so completely. Ky knew he was gifted at many things, but he'd never been very good at first impressions. Somehow - more often than he would have liked - he managed to encompass every negative aspect of high command at once, no matter his manner or attitude. Failing to make allies before he even had a chance to damn himself by action. Usually it was an easy enough slight to repair, but there were those - Sol Badguy, included, it seemed - who had absolutely no interest in giving him the opportunity, too lazy or too jaded to bother with second opinions.

"Exactly where are we going?"

Sol looked at him as if he'd been babbling for hours instead of asking one simple question, and Ky glared back, waiting for a challenge. He didn't think the man would do anything quite as stupid as… well, if they needed to have that fight, some more serious version of their usual absurd brawling, here and now would be as good a place as any. At least no one else would be in the way. Maybe it would solve something.

"Man, Kiske, you can't take a shit without having it on the schedule, can you?"

Ky sighed, in no way willing to respond. As if he'd had a plan in the last six months that hadn't been torn to tiny shreds as soon as the battle had started. At least he'd become a bit more confident about who he could trust, assigning tasks out to a few who'd proven themselves trustworthy. Sol didn't know it, wouldn't have believed it, but Ky had put him on that list a long time ago, not nearly as chaotic or unreliable as he liked to pretend.

The man's entire existence was a strange, complicated mystery, one that Ky had neither the time nor the energy to solve, since he hadn't yet proven himself a danger to the war. All Ky's efforts and attentions were focused there - had to be. All those plans Sol mocked him for, the single-minded determination that may have been the real cause of his standoffishness - but it was necessary. The solutions were out there, the strategies Ky needed, and, damn it, if he were just a little smarter, had just a little more information, maybe he would know what he had to do, how to win, and no one would need to die.

Ky stopped short, as Sol flung an arm up, eyes narrowed, though he could hear nothing, see nothing even as he strained to catch whatever it was that had raised the warning flag. Sol had been afield a long time, though even by those standards his instincts were impressive. Another one of those mysteries of his. He was moving closer, cautiously edging along the rise of a stone wall, and Ky followed silently behind him, listening to the trickle of water along the rock, interrupted by a strange, harsh cry that had him with his hand on the hilt of his sword, scanning the area for imminent attack.

Nothing, the second cry not as sharp, an almost cackling sound that didn't seem to have any real purpose, not an attack, and there was nothing left to do but find the source - it was supposed to be a perimeter check, after all. Ky weighed the possibility that he could convince Sol to go back for help, if they did manage to stumble over some sneak attack - and tightened his grip on his sword. Unlikely.

As surprising as an attack seemed, the reality of the situation was far more bewildering, leaving him, after the first moment of shock passed, with little else to do but stare.

Three Gears were in the clearing. Not a form he recognized, but nothing other than a Gear could stand twice as tall as he did on long, spindly legs, their feathers dark and gleaming, sword-like beaks easily the length of his sword and just as sharp. Bird Gears, the sort of thing he'd usually be trying to blow out of the sky, yet it was fascinating at the moment just to watch them walk about, the delicate, careful movements of their great legs, sharp talons sticking into the icy ground.

A snap of sound as one of them ruffled its wings, scrambling up the side of an iced-over bank, and with a hoarse, croaking call and a tumble it threw itself down, sliding over the icy slope and down along the frozen brook, covering a considerable distance before slowing to a halt. The other two birds let out another series of raucous cries, rustling their wings and dancing from foot to foot. After a moment, one of the other birds ascended the same slope, fell and slid and caused the same noisy reaction among the others.

"What are they doing?" Ky whispered, but Sol didn't answer, and didn't really need to. He could see very well what they were doing. The Gears were playing. Taking turns hurling themselves down the icy slope, with what might have been cheers or even laughter. He moved just a little closer, a silent step, amazed at the sight.

It wasn't like Ky didn't understand how it worked, that the only reason the Gears were any real, unified threat to humanity was because of Justice. So many stories, so many rumors of how the Gears fought and gathered, their hellish and wicked ways, all but demons - but Kliff had explained it first of anything, how she controlled them, a command Gear, bending them to her will. He had seen it in battle, had watched her influence sweep over the field, throwing the more bloodthirsty of the Gears into a frenzy, forcing the others to attack when animal instincts would have made them panic, or flee. A Gear was little more, most times, than an oversized beast, and though Ky knew it was an opinion he didn't dare voice - how could such a sin as this war be theirs, when most of them did not want to fight? How were they not the victims as well?

He should have been shamed, for the thought, for being more curious than angry now. But Ky remembered standing on the field after one of the last great battles, staring into an eye the size of a dinner plate, dark-slitted, deep with blue and gold and a fading light. Dying, and as the Gear died Ky could see Justice leave it, watched the anger drain away into confusion, and maybe fear, and maybe he'd put his hand against the massive muzzle, as if there was any way to comfort such a creature, in those last few moments. Felt its last breath fade, this Gear that had killed his comrades, and hadn't wanted to be there at all.

It was difficult enough to have regrets for his own side. The tableau before him now was a confirmation, a reminder that Ky hadn't particularly wanted to see.

He was just about to grab for Sol's sleeve, the other man still watching quietly, and pull them away - Justice was resting, perhaps, or occupied on the other side of the world, her attention on some distant field. The actions of two soldiers and a handful of Gears was unlikely to call her attention, and Ky couldn't bring himself to consider such cold-blooded slaughter without it.

Directly behind them, a pile of heavy, melting snow finally tumbled from its high perch, cracking a branch on the way down, the sound echoing through the clearing. For a moment, Ky thought one of the birds had grown a second head, and then realized it was just a smaller, younger creature sitting on the back of its elder. A family, this was a family.

A family of rather large Gears, who had finally noticed their presence.

Ky took a slow, deep breath in, as the Gears stepped closer together, beady black eyes fixed on them, heads tipping and bobbing now and then, as if to get a better look. At least they weren't making any loud noises, only small chirps and burbles to each other, nothing that sounded threatening. He heard Sol pulling his massive sword from its sheath, reached up to grab his shoulder.

"Don't."

An irritated hiss, and Ky tightened his grip, even though his other hand was also poised, ready to draw.

"Don't."

The Gears moved closer, warily graceful on their strange, long legs. Ky didn't move, watching the thick talons clutch and dig at the soil - a kick from one of those would tear him open from waist to shoulder, certainly. His hand was almost numb, holding onto Sol, but the other man hadn't moved, only the flash in his eyes suggesting how close he was to violence.

One of the birds dipped its head down slowly, tilted to the side, nearly level with Ky's face, close enough that he could see the slight striations of texture on the long, slender beak, and the tiny feathers clustered around the dark eye. It let out a little sound, more curious than anything, but Ky braced himself anyway, could probably leap back further than that beak could reach, at least for the first few seconds.

He never had to test the theory. The Gear stepped back as it had come, raised its head, and that was the end of it. With a few more soft calls, the flock was on the move, walking away down the river, and away from their camp. Ky could still see the fledgling watching him between the wings of its parent, and then they turned the corner, and were gone.

Ky let out the breath he was holding, flexing both of his hands, already expecting the protest from Sol, that he'd dared touch him at all. The other man was quiet, though, still looking off to where the other Gears had vanished. He didn't like them, Ky knew that. Not a man in the army who didn't have some sort of personal score with the beasts, and at least in that respect, it was clear Sol was no different than any other soldier.

"We should head back." He said, after a moment, when Sol didn't turn or move or insult him.

"Suicide is not a strategy, kid." Red-hazel eyes glaring at him, possibly angry, possibly just disgusted, as Ky once again failed to live up to whatever Sol's expectations might be. He sighed, and glanced away, down the river, at the few footprints that remained in the snow. Impossible to regret it, letting them live, and he knew Sol knew it.

Quiet then, on the way back. In any other situation, it would have been a relief, but Ky was grateful, when the camp finally came into view. The guard at the border saluted with a smile.

"Did you find anything, sir?"

Sol didn't even stop walking, leaving the explanation entirely up to him, and Ky only shook his head.

"Nothing worth mentioning."


End file.
